Hello, Ego. Goodbye, Ego.

There it is. The energy of the yoga class is buzzing. Jiving through an asana flow. Chataranga. Bhujangasana. Downward dog.

Fatigue settles in. An old shoulder injury speaks up. Your wrists scream “stop,” only to be scolded by the voice in your head.

“Oh, come on. You can do it.”

Competition.

Edge.

Ego.

This is not yoga.

Yoga is absent of ego. The internal sense of separation we attach to ourselves and apply again and again throughout our lives. Ego. Really, a way to say:

This is me.

This is mine.

These are the things I’m best at.

Helpful in everyday life? Perhaps. It’s hard to deny the seeming ease and convenience the ego provides. In less than a second, I can sort and categorize myself. You. Others. But the problem is, in every statement of who I am – in every “this is me, this is mine, this is what I know” – an unspoken “not” follows. 

I am a writer. You are not.

This is my best friend. Not yours.

My body is strong and flexible. Unlike yours.

Negatives are exclusionary. They strip the compassion from us. The caring. The understanding. When instead we should be reminded that, yes, we are each our own person, but also that we are cut from the same cloth.

After all, there’s far more value in our common denominators than our differentiators.

This is yoga.